Though countless as the grains of sand <br />That roll at Eurus' loud command; <br />Though countless as the lamps of night <br />That glad us with vicarious light; <br />Fair plenty, gracious queen, should pour <br />The blessings of a golden shower, <br />Not all the gifts of fate combin'd <br />Would ease the hunger of the mind, <br />But swallowing call the mighty store, <br />Rapacity would call for more; <br />For still where wishes most abound <br />Unquench'd the thirst of gain is found; <br />In vain the shining gifts are sent, <br />For none are rich without content.<br /><br />Samuel Johnson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-boethius-de-consolatione-philosophiae-book-ii-metre-2/
